


Miniature Adults

by Taliya



Series: Exposure [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Cross-Generational Friendship, Developing Friendships, Family, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Parent-Child Relationship, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-04-30 19:43:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5177369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taliya/pseuds/Taliya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For all their bluster and ability, it always took Roy by surprise whenever he was reminded that Edward and Alphonse were still just children. Part I is parent Roy–Ed, and Part II is parent Roy–Al. Minor spoilers for the manga/Brotherhood rated for Ed's mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I: Edward Elric

**Author's Note:**

> Fullmetal Alchemist characters, settings, and ideas belong not to me but to Arakawa Hiromu.

_Early Spring of 1911_

Roy Mustang groaned as he stretched, the popping in his back barely audible over the steady drum of the early spring rains on the windowpanes. He had been sitting at his desk for nearly the entirety of the afternoon, and had made a decent amount of headway in the paperwork on his desk.  Deciding that he deserved a quick break, he stood and swept out of his office, passing his half-working, half-joshing officers and Riza Hawkeye’s sharp eyes. They were officially off in thirty minutes anyway.  He idly wondered where his youngest subordinate was before dismissing it from his mind. Most likely he was en route to East City from his latest mission, no death and plenty of destruction in his wake. If the colonel were to guess based on the military grapevine, the barely thirteen-year-old menace and his younger brother would arrive in the city the day after tomorrow, having allotted them time to follow a lead in their quest to regain their proper bodies.

Hands in his pockets, he allowed his mind to wander as he took the stairs to the roof.  It was the one place on the grounds that he escaped to when he needed to think or relax.  His boots thumped quietly against the tile as he approached the last landing.  If it happened to be raining when he took his break, there was a small overhang above the doorway that would provide him enough cover to remain dry.  Roy knew that other personnel used the roof as their temporary sanctuary as well, but he suspected that with the downpour he would have no company this rainy evening. Springs in East City were cold with the temperatures generally not warming up until close to mid-year, and even then it was for only a few months.

When he had broached the idea of joining the ranks of State Alchemists to a practically catatonic and crippled eleven-year-old Edward Elric and his armor-suited younger brother Alphonse, he had no idea that just one year later said older brother would appear at his metaphorical doorstep, breezing through the State Alchemy Examination with a score that even he admitted would have taken him years of study to match, let alone top. He had been extremely proud, both with himself and the boy.  Proud that he now had an exceptionally talented, record-setting Alchemist under his command—which could only boost his chances of a promotion having been the officer who “discovered” him.  Proud of his newly minted Fullmetal Alchemist subordinate for his resilience, determination, brilliance, and dedication to his goals and his younger brother—despite the setbacks of the excruciating addition of two automail limbs.

The half-year with the Fullmetal Alchemist under his command had softened him towards the pair of boys, though outwardly he would not, could not show.  The elder Elric would instantly consider it a personal affront, that Roy did not take him seriously, and the younger Elric… well, he was not quite sure where he stood with the towering suit of armor that housed one of the kindest souls he had had the pleasure to meet.  The boys were so terribly protective of one another that it was adorable, in its own way. They had suffered through so much from such young ages, that they had forced themselves to become as fiercely independent as they were.  Roy could think of few events that were more gruesome and traumatizing than what that pair experienced.

He paused before the heavy door that separated him from the elements, leaning his forehead on the cold metal. _God_ , he was tired.  Life with the Elrics was… interesting, to say the least.  Every mission he gave to the youngest State Alchemist returned completed with a lengthy list of damages and usually an extortionate automail repair bill the Amestrian government was required to recompense. And as the Fullmetal Alchemist’s commanding officer, it meant just _that_ much more paperwork for him.  While Roy knew that Edward and Alphonse were fully capable of taking care of themselves, it did not mean he did not worry about them.  Indeed, he worried over the safety of each of his men (and woman) under his lead. Each of his veteran officers recognized his dedication to their health and safety, and in return gave him their unswerving loyalty.  The newest additions to his team, both official and unofficial, required a little more supervision and guidance than he was used to, but it was a task he willingly dealt with if it meant his charges were provided for in the best ways he could manage. There was also the additional apprehension of someone discovering the circumstances that lead to the brothers’ current state of affairs, which by law was an instant death sentence.

Pushing open the door, he froze as his eyes landed upon the unmistakable crimson, black, and gold color combination that characterized the Fullmetal Alchemist.  His subordinate sat with his back against the parapet that ran along the perimeter of the roof, legs tucked to his chest, arms crossed over the knees, and face buried in his arms—the picture of weary defeat.  The image seared itself into his mind, feeling instinctively that the muted background colors were too grey, too drab, for the young spitfire that had blown into his life like a tornado.  He was completely drenched, having sat out here for who knew how long. With the ambient temperature more than chilly, the young Alchemist had to be freezing sitting there long enough to become thoroughly soaked, and the automail limbs could not possibly help to retain body heat.  Best to get the kid back inside and warm and dried off.  He speedily decided questions as to why he was already in East City could wait.

Stepping into the rain, Roy bit back a curse as he made his way across the roof, the water driving icy needles into his skin. “Hagaren,” he called over the rain. He was sure the boy had heard him, but the boy had yet to twitch a muscle in response.  The faintest twinge of worry stirred in his breast. “Hagaren,” he repeated with more force, coming to a stop at the youth’s feet.  The blond lifted his head slightly, eyes barely peering over his arms for a moment before hiding his face once more.  Now seriously worried, Roy squatted next to his subordinate and tentatively laid a hand on the red-clad flesh shoulder. He was startled when he felt undeniable tremors that wracked the boy’s frame.  It was clear he was cold, but was he upset as well?

“Hagare—”  Roy stopped, coming up completely blank as to what his subordinate’s actual name was. It had been so long since he had called the boy by his actual name that the colonel no longer remembered offhand what it was.  He knew Alphonse’s—how could he not, with his subordinate shouting the younger brother’s name so often? The realization was frankly, embarrassing.  To cover up his discomfiture, he bluntly asked, “Are you all right?” He received no response and an increase in the shudders that shook the small frame beneath his hand. At this point Roy was seriously concerned.  His name was on the tip of his tongue, and yet he could not for the life of him remember. Letting go of the small shoulder, he twisted and sat down next to the young Alchemist, both to provide any sort of support and solidarity for his charge he could provide, as well as relieve the cramping in his legs from squatting.  He swept his waterlogged hair out of his eyes, resting his arms on his bent legs as he began to shiver.

They sat in silence, the rain their only other companion as they shuddered from the cold and damp.  “Y-y-you sh-should g-go ins-s-side.”  The voice was unlike anything he was used to. It was so heavy, so full of remorse and anguish and despondency, when ordinarily it was brash and fiery and passionate, and there was the unmistakable stutter he believed was only partly due to the chill surroundings.

Roy shook his head, feeling like a half-drowned cat. He was more than cold, soaked to the bone, and worried for the youth.  “Only if you go too,” he barely managed to reply without stutters of his own. The hiss of rain wrapped itself around them once more, choking any and all attempts at conversation. At length the colonel noticed that the youth’s shaking had become so pronounced that even in the rapidly dimming evening light he could still see the way his entire body trembled. Reaching his right arm out, he grasped the boy’s opposite shoulder—the metal shoulder that was shockingly icy even through the scarlet coat and his glove—and pulled him flush against his side, both to transfer any sort of body heat he possessed as well as to provide the comfort of physical human touch.  The blond started violently and was already mid swing before he registered Roy’s calm, quiet voice and stopped, automail hand clunking loudly against the concrete flooring of the roof as it dropped to his side and rattled from the violence of his shivering.

“Ed, what’s wrong?”  The boy’s name rolled off his tongue as though he had never forgotten.  His concern was unmistakable in his tone, and it startled Roy to hear the sheer amount of pleading desperation laced in his voice.  It was obvious Edward heard it too, for he released a more pronounced shudder and a shaky sigh, remaining quiet.  “Please, Ed, _please_ tell me.” Roy could count on one hand the number of times he had begged for anything, and this added one more finger to the count.  But his concern regarding the boy’s abject despair overrode any thoughts of keeping his pride intact. Abandoning the ragged shreds of his dignity he pulled Edward into a hug, right arm securely around his shoulders and the other pressing the blond head into the crook of his neck. The soaked strands of hair stuck to his cheek and itched, but Roy was beyond caring.  All he knew was that his charge was hurting, and he was frustrated that he had no idea of the cause or how to fix it.  “Talk to me, Ed.  _Please_.”

The boy curled fingers both flesh and automated into the lapels of his coat with surprising strength borne from desperation, and Roy held him all the more closely for it.  With his new proximity to the young Alchemist he picked up on the soft hiccupping sobs masked earlier by the rain that made his heart wrench. He rocked the both of them gently, allowing the boy to cry on his shoulder.  When it became clear that Edward was not going to speak, he tried to separate them so that he could stand up, but Edward only gripped his clothing tighter. After a few seconds of gentle but futile attempts to pry his attire free, Roy silently hauled them both to their feet and led the blond to the shelter of the stairwell. They descended in silence, Roy never once releasing the boy’s shoulder as they dripped, squeaked, and squelched their way to the dormitories.  When Edward realized where his superior was directing him, he stopped, eyes wide as he wrenched himself free from the surprised colonel’s grasp.

“Ed—”  Roy was wary as he slowly reach a hand out, internally devastated by the fact that he was treating Amestris’s most famous Alchemist like a wounded animal. While Edward physically was well, he was most certainly not mentally and emotionally.

“I can’t—I can’t face him!” Edward whispered fiercely as he backed away, and Roy paused in his careful advancement, allowing him to finish his thought.  “I can’t face Al just yet…”

Frowning, the colonel considered his charge. Edward was clearly upset and staunchly against going to his rooms to dry off.  He himself needed to do the same, lest they both come down with illnesses. “All right, Ed. We won’t go to your quarters,” he coaxed. “Will my office do for now?” After receiving tentative confirmation from the soaked boy Roy redirected them to his office, where the only one left was his steadfast First Lieutenant.  Riza stood and saluted, sending him a distinctly quizzical look at both his and Edward’s sopping, bedraggled appearances.  “We’re fine, Chuui,” he said, acknowledging her so that she could drop her right hand from the salute.  “Please get the car to drive us to my home, then you are free to go for the evening.”  She nodded silently, communicating her worry with her eyes as she picked up her trench coat and left the office.  After confirming with the younger Elric that no, Edward was not in danger, no, he had not done anything stupid, and yes, he would not be returning for the evening because of a long overdue discussion, the colonel and his subordinate left Central Command. The boy did not complain or object once during the entire phone conversation, seemingly tuned out from the rest of the world.

The ride was quiet save for the steady pounding of the rain on the car’s roof.  Roy quickly ushered Edward to his doorstep, tossing a grateful nod over his shoulder at the worried Riza.  He dug the key to his townhome from a pocket and unlocked the door, allowing it to swing open and steering the young Alchemist inside.  “Shoes off, Edward,” he directed gently as he toed off his own boots.  “Let’s get you warm and dry first.  Then we’ll eat, and after that you and I are going to sit down and have a discussion.” The boy blinked hazily at him, his eyes swollen and red-rimmed.  Roy steered Edward to the spare bathroom upstairs, pulling out extra towels before stopping by his own bathroom to quickly strip his soaked coat off. He snagged a set of sweats he wore to lounge at home, a pair of socks, and the smallest pair of boxers he owned and set them on the spare bathroom’s countertop.  “Shower and warm yourself up, Edward, then meet me in the kitchen, all right?”

He then left the boy to his own devices and quickly headed for his own shower.  He hung his clothes over the bathtub to drip dry before stepping under the hot spray, hissing at the drastic temperature difference.  Eventually he felt he had completely regained sensitivity in all of his extremities after scrubbing himself down and simply soaking in the heat. Now clothed and dry he headed to the kitchen to start dinner, stopping by the living room to light a fire in the fireplace and set the drenched pairs of boots nearby to dry. He began the preparation for a simple meal of dill potatoes, steamed green beans, and pan-fried butterflied pork loin. He poured glasses of water for the two of them, glancing away from the stove when he heard Edward shuffle into the kitchen, damp hair hanging in limp strands about his face. The sweats threatened to swallow him and a jab at the boy’s lack of height was at the tip of Roy’s tongue, but a look at the still deadened eyes killed any desire to crack jokes. “Would you mind watching the food for a little, Ed?  I need to hang your clothing dry.  Where is it?” he asked.

“Bunched up in the sink,” he murmured in reply as he scooted to the stove and easily took over the pan-frying duties. The pants were too long on him, and with no way to tie the hems Edward was forced to slide his feet across the floor lest he trip on them.  At least the socks he had provided would keep his flesh foot protected against the cold kitchen tile.

“Just don’t burn my house down,” he warned in a lighthearted manner as he hurried to the spare bathroom. Lifting the sopping bundle of clothing from the sink, he shook them out in his bathtub and hung them alongside his own dripping uniform.  Task done, he returned to the kitchen to find that Edward had already set the table with cutlery, plates, and dishes in place.  The boy himself stood along the bar, uneasily shifting his weight from foot to foot and looking anywhere but at his commanding officer.  “Thank you, Ed,” Roy said, trying to put his subordinate at ease. “Please sit.”  They both seated themselves and began to eat, the silence awkward. Edward still appeared miles away, and Roy had no idea how to deal with Edward in this particular state of mind, so the uneasy quiet persisted.

Once they finished, Edward silently helped Roy clear the table.  Roy made two mugs of tea, handing one to the younger Alchemist and sending him over to the living room to lounge by the fire as he washed and dried the dishes.  He joined Edward in the living room, noticing how Edward had set his mug on the coffee table and had huddled into a corner of the settee, face once again hidden in his arms.  “Ed?” he cautiously prodded, setting his mug down as well and sitting next to the boy.  He slid a hand onto Edward’s back, knowing that as the boy’s superior, he was crossing a personal boundary, had already done so on the rooftop.  But he had not brought Edward into his home in the capacity of Colonel Mustang but as Roy, a human being sympathizing with the suffering of his fellow man. “Ed,” he said, rubbing his hand along the boy’s shoulders.  “You can trust me. Tell me what’s wrong so I can help.”

“I don’t want or need your help,” he muttered without lifting his head, a spark of his fiery personality resurfacing.

“You don’t have a choice,” Roy retorted with a gentle scoff, secretly relieved to see a bit of that particularly familiar facet of the Fullmetal Alchemist’s personality reemerge, “You’re here in my home and I can tell you are upset about something regarding Alphonse.” Seeing how he was not getting through to his charge, he added quietly, “I won’t use anything you say here against you, considering the source of your upset regards Alphonse. I never would, not with something that is clearly this important to you.”  Edward barely lifted his face, his aurulent eyes wary as they focused on Roy’s serious countenance.  “I promise,” he insisted, “I’m not here as your commanding officer.  I’m here simply to lend you whatever support you require.”

“Why are you doing this?” he asked slowly, his voice thick with doubt.  The unspoken message was clear: _You’ll leave, just like every other adult we thought we could trust._

Roy felt something in his chest tighten at the stark cynicism embedded in someone so young.  The officers he commanded understood and reciprocated his unwavering loyalty; it was time to prove to his newest and youngest subordinate that earning his allegiance meant he would move heaven and earth to help them, that his promises held weight, meant more than empty platitudes spoken to appease people. “Because you are still a child. Please listen Ed,” he entreated, cutting off the angry retort that had bubbled reflexively to Edward’s lips, his voice beseeching the boy to truly listen.  Edward seemed to sense the gravity of Roy’s demeanor and settled, a suspicious frown still on his face.  “I do not mean to insult you at all—it’s the truth, Ed. I recognize you are fully capable and independent, and I respect and admire that.  But I am not merely referring to your age in this instance. I’m referring to the fact that you haven’t had any sort of steady guidance and support for several years now.” He paused, unsure of what next to speak of.  It was extremely difficult to be candid, when he spent all of his waking moments crafting his words and finessing them to his advantage.

 _Go for broke,_ he decided with a mental shrug.  _No gilded words or he won’t ever trust you. It’s Equivalent Exchange, after all._ “My parents died when I was very young,” he started haltingly, and the apparent non sequitur seemed to throw Edward off kilter. Aware of the intense but puzzled eyes on him that he refused to acknowledge, Roy stared at the edge of the coffee table, lacing his fingers as he rested his elbows on his knees. “I was adopted by my aunt, who raised me in a—to put it politely, a bar.”  There was no use sugarcoating the details; he was certain Edward had heard worse since his induction into the military.  Regardless, Roy felt that if he tried his utmost best not to add to the boy’s already astonishingly expansive inventory of profanity, then it was a job well done on his part.  He harbored a sneaking suspicion that the chief source of Edward’s knowledge of expletives could be traced to his Second Lieutenants Breda and Havoc; he would be having a talk with them later this week.

“I have no recollection of who they were, what they were like.  I’ve only seen pictures of them, but I don’t know their habits, their likes and dislikes, their hobbies. I don’t know who they were as _people_.  Despite the fact that I know you detest your father, you are luckier than me in that regard, Ed—at least you have some memory of him.” Roy’s gaze shifted to his intertwined fingers, naked without their usual white gloves.  “My aunt raised me as best she could, but it’s difficult to be the child of a single mother.  You would know firsthand, doing whatever you could to step up and be the man of the family despite your age and lack of knowledge and ability. My aunt was there for me for as long as I can remember, and she’s been my pillar of support.  You and Alphonse lost yours when you were eight and he was seven, and have been somewhat adrift ever since, I think.”

“Not really,” Edward objected with slight belligerence, unfurling a bit from his defensive position, “Pinako-obaa-chan raised us since then.”

Roy smiled sadly, still not looking at the boy. “And she has done an amazing job with the two of you.  But she has your friend Winry to look after as well, in addition to maintaining a business. And now with you and Alphonse so far away from Resembool, who is your support?”  He finally raised his eyes to meet Edward’s, silently daring him to reveal a name, any name.

It was incredible the way Edward’s face changed when his emotions were barely guarded.  Roy was pleased to have visible evidence that his words had penetrated and were being carefully digested with that razor-sharp intellect of his. The boy’s countenance was a mixture of distrust, hope, fear, and anger, punctuated by furrowed brows, misty eyes, and a clenched jaw.  It once again brought into harsh clarity the reality that this State Alchemist, his little hellion of a subordinate, was only _thirteen years old_.

 _And I did this,_ he thought with a sudden surge of self-loathing, _I brought a twelve-year-old child into the military._   It abruptly became a trial to stare into the eyes of the physical evidence of what his pride and ambition had wrought, and Roy was forced to look away, deeply ashamed. _I am a complete and utter idiot for not thinking about his mental and emotional growth, bringing him into such an environment.  I’ve ruined whatever chance he had at being a normal kid._

Dropping his head, he pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets as he wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole. Or perhaps he should utilize the flames in the fireplace and set himself afire—a fitting end for the renowned Flame Alchemist.  It was another addition to the endless list of sins he had accumulated, another burden he had added to his shoulders in his bid to reach the position of Führer. He felt that this new one in particular, was especially substantial.  His crimes in Ishval had been constrained to ending life, but this newest weight had caused the ruination of a child—perhaps children, plural. His latest mistake would assuredly last the duration of Edward’s lifetime, and possibly Alphonse’s as well.

The guilt he bore had bile rising in his throat, but he forced it back down.  Because he was concentrating so heavily on containing his roiling stomach, he nearly missed Edward’s whispered confession.  “ _You._ ”

Roy blinked, twisting his head to stare incredulously at the bowed head of gold and hardly believing his ears. He responded with an eloquent, “Wha—?”

Edward stared at his knees, bound in place by his arms. With the profile of his face backlit by the fire, his hair glowed like a fiery halo and gave him an angelic, otherworldly appearance.  “What we did was unforgivable, and yet…”  The boy’s voice was so soft that Roy nearly had to lean closer to hear the words that haltingly spilled forth from his lips.  “You showed up, just after we’d both lost any hope of finding redemption, and gave us the option of another possibility to move forwards besides resigning ourselves to death.”  Now that he had started to speak, it was as if the dam had broken and he could no longer stem the tide that had built up behind the wall.  “You gave us back our hope, our chance at potentially having a normal life again. And once I obtained the title of State Alchemist, you’ve done nothing but help us wherever you could with leads for the Philosopher’s Stone unofficially squeezed into missions. That you would go so far to do that for us, when you even now barely know us, I—”  His eyes slid shut, and a single bead of moisture slid down his cheek.  “What you’ve done for us in half a year is more than I can say about Hohenheim.”

Roy was floored by Edward’s confession. Never in his wildest dreams had the idea ever occurred to him that there was a possibility that he, Roy Mustang, had somehow managed to become a quasi-father figure to—if not Alphonse, then Edward. The concept was utterly mind boggling to him.  He had never viewed himself as a parent type; that sort of personality profile was definitely more aligned with Hughes. That he had even somehow manage to usurp Von Hohenheim— _Hohenheim!_ —as a surrogate father to his own flesh and blood was nothing short of a miracle.

“Today is Alphonse’s birthday—his twelfth birthday. It marks another year that I’ve failed to regain his body.  I’d promised him over and over that I’d get it back for him, and I’ve nothing to show for it.” Edward leaned his forehead back onto his knees, tightening his arms and tucking his legs tighter against his chest. “Another setback. The lead in Estrelais was a fake. It had sounded so promising. Should have known it was too good to be true.  I’ve let Al down _again_.  I’ve done it so many times already.  Maybe that’s all I’m good for.”

He curled himself tighter, and Roy had never seen the boy look more drained, _defeated_. And so undeniably _young_.  That same helpless frustration welled up in his chest, along with a startlingly ferocious desire to protect.  Something much stronger than mere sympathy stirred in his heart.  Repeating his actions on the rooftop, Roy leaned over and pulled Edward into his side, tucking the blond head beneath his chin, hand curled around the steel shoulder.

“I tried, I really did,” he continued, burying his face into Roy’s chest, fingers blindly reaching out to once again grasp his shirt.  Roy wrapped his other arm around the boy and maneuvered him so that Edward sat across his lap and held him close. “It’s my fault that we tried to resurrect ’kaa-san, despite Al’s protests.  It’s my fault that Al lost his body, that he is stuck inside that suit of armor and unable to feel, smell, taste, sleep.  I’m such a failure.  I wasn’t even a good enough son to keep Hohenheim from leaving.”

Roy felt dampness soak the front of his shirt as Edward began to quietly sob, his small frame quaking with the effort to suppress the strength of his emotions.  He tightened his arms around his subordinate, wordlessly attempting to give as much comfort and support he could physically provide.  “You are _not_ a failure, Edward Elric,” he whispered fiercely, eyes staring over the crown of gold and into the flames of the fire.  “You’re proof to me that the impossible can be overcome.”

Edward chuckled, a bitter, cynical sound that Roy thought was far more suited to someone more like himself: far older with ingrained suspicion for most of his fellow people and nightmarish experiences of Hell. He disengaged himself from Roy, leaning back and holding his right hand up between them.  The metal fingers curled into a fist with the clicks of the mechanical parts inside reacting according to his whims.  His eyes were swollen and red, and the fresh tracks from his tears gleamed in the firelight.  “My automail is proof of my failures.  Plural. One for my idiocy in attempting to bring back ’kaa-san, the other for forcing Al to go through the transmutation with me in spite of his objections.”  He dropped his hand and leaned forwards, resting his forehead on the center of Roy’s collarbones, and the colonel could do little more than hug the boy against his chest.

“Perhaps to you, those _are_ proof of your failures,” Roy murmured, jaw resting against the head of spun gold.  “But I see something different.  I see an indomitable will and the determination to persevere and protect.  I see the ability to conquer fear and uncertainty, the ability to succeed against the odds.  But do you know what I truly see when I see your automail, Ed?” Roy leaned back, seeking Edward’s eyes. When he contacted them, he smiled tentatively. “I see a bond of love and devotion so strong that it transcends death, regardless of the fact that it was taboo. And I can honestly say that I wish I could have felt even an ounce of that bond for someone in my life.”

Edward blinked.  “You don’t feel that way for your aunt?” he asked with a sniffle.

Roy chuckled with a hint of bitterness. “From the very beginning we used each other.  She knew how wily and ambitious I was, and I knew she was a dealer in information. Knowledge is power; she had it and I wanted it.  There was always an element of give and take, debts owed and accounted for.  It was never so straightforward.”  Roy huffed ruefully.  “Maybe that’s part of the reason you hate me so much.”

“I don’t hate you,” Edward muttered.

Roy raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Could have fooled me,” he remarked offhandedly.

Edward snorted.  “You’re a bastard.  You’re an arrogant, supercilious old prick with a god complex who annoys the piss out of me, but I don’t hate you.”

“And you’re a stubborn, snotty little brat who thinks he knows more than everyone else and drives me out of my mind,” was Roy’s bland rejoinder.  When Edward slumped inwards on himself, the colonel added softly, “But despite all of this boy’s flaws, I’ve never been more proud of him.”

Edward’s head shot up to catch Roy’s faint grin, and he echoed it with a shy one of his own.  “Bastard,” he mumbled as he swiped a sleeve across his eyes.

“Brat,” Roy responded, gently but firmly shoving the boy off his legs and back into the corner of the couch he originally inhabited with a _thump_.

The youth righted himself, indignation written clear across his face.  “What the hell?” he snapped, sweat pants and sleeves engulfing his hands and feet. His head now poked out of a mass of wrinkled grey cotton.

Roy smirked at the sight, grabbing the two now cold tea mugs as he stood and headed for the kitchen.  “You weighed enough my legs were going to sleep, despite how small you are,” he remarked.  The expected explosion regarding Edward’s lack of stature never came. Instead, right as Roy stepped into the kitchen’s threshold, he glanced back over his shoulder. Edward glared at him murderously, but there was something else in that baleful glower, a tiny hint that warmed him inexplicably.  He continued to the sink and dumped the tea out.  “The spare bedroom is on the left side of the hallway opposite the spare bathroom. Everything you need should already be in there.”  He finished washing and drying the two mugs, returning to find Edward still sitting at the couch watching the fire.  He doused the flames, plunging the living room into darkness.

“This way,” he directed, and heard Edward’s shuffling footsteps behind him as they climbed the staircase. Moonlight dimly illuminated the corridor, and Roy opened the spare bedroom door for his charge. “I’ll wake you in time for a ride to Central Command tomorrow morning.”

Edward replied with a curt, “Thanks,” as he sidled past his superior officer, not bothering with the light switch.

“Ed.”  The change in tone from haughty and self-assured to something gentler and more sincere gave the boy pause, and he glanced over his shoulder. His eyes shone like two dim candles in the darkness.  “I always have a spare bedroom,” Roy said, his expression masked by the backlight of the moon. “And you and Alphonse are always welcome to it.  _Any_ time you need it.  Sleep well.”

Seeing his subordinate’s shocked expression, Roy decided he was not going to get a reply and eased the door closed before retiring for the night.  He performed his evening ablutions, snatching a glove to dry off the still somewhat-damp clothing hanging over his bathtub.  A puff of steam erupted from the clothes, and satisfied, he stripped the glove onto his nightstand and slid into bed, setting his alarm. _It’s been a long day,_ he thought as he burrowed into the downy haven of his bed.  _But I would not trade today for anything._   A sleepy smile tugged at his lips.  _He inadvertently called me his father._   The warmth in his chest was balmier than his cocoon of the softest down duvet money could buy as he drifted off into blissful slumber, the only visible sign of him a few tufts of black hair sticking out of the comforter, hiding the contented smile that remained on his lips long after he had fallen asleep.

\---

Hagaren – Roy’s abbreviation of Edward’s full title, “Hagane no Renkinjutsushi” – Fullmetal Achemist

Chuui – First Lieutenant

Obaa-chan – Grandmother

’kaa-san – Abbreviation of “okaa-san” – mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: … so maybe Roy was a little out of character. I am, however, of the opinion that if someone Roy genuinely cared about were truly upset, then he would set aside his masks and do whatever he could to help. The jab at Roy forgetting Edward's name was a bit of trivia I read about somewhere but don't remember where. And why would Edward not be upset at each passing of Alphonse’s birthday, when each passing year represents another year he failed? I’m not happy with how I ended it, but I couldn’t think of a better way to do it. I hope you enjoyed it.---
> 
> \---
> 
> Completed: 01.01.2014


	2. Part II: Alphonse Elric

_Spring of 1914_

The afternoon sun was warm on his back as Roy Mustang made his way to the townhouse that he never sold after relocating to East City. Hands in his pockets, he took a deep, slow breath, savoring the crisp spring air.  The leaves, budding in shades of yellow and green, whistled as the breeze carried the remnants of the hoary winter. He had taken the afternoon off to run a few errands, and to get some time away from work.  He was currently visiting Central City for an assignment, and relished the chance to be home.  Even still, he missed the company of his subordinates.  He enjoyed the company his coworkers provided—he really did, but sometimes his Second Lieutenants Havoc and Breda’s jokes would get out of hand, Warrant Officer Falman and Sergeant Major Feury’s chatter would become distracting, or First Lieutenant Hawkeye would get a little too pushy with the paperwork.

And then there were the Elric brothers, State Alchemist Edward and his younger brother Alphonse.  In the four years that Edward had been under his employ, he had been by turns delighted, gratified, irritated, exasperated, entertained, angered, and terrified.  The now fifteen-year-old imp had generated more paperwork than he had ever anticipated, racked up bills both damage and medical like nobody’s business, and given him more pseudo-heart attacks than all of his time during the Ishval campaign.

The fourteen-year-old younger brother Alphonse was the foil to Edward’s character.  Where Edward was brassy, impulsive, and ostentatious, Alphonse was unobtrusive, thoughtful, and practical.  It was amusing to watch the general public confuse the two: Edward’s title of the Fullmetal Alchemist was often mistakenly bestowed upon Alphonse, whose body comprised a complete seven-foot-tall suit of armor.  Edward’s comparatively diminutive stature was a constant source of grief and annoyance for the teen; any comments about his lack of height provoked swift and merciless retribution.  It was one of the few sources of simple pleasure that Roy indulged in, for it required no intricate thought and maneuvering.  Just a straightforward jab at Edward’s vertically challenged nature and he would foam at the mouth and erupt like a volcano.  It was great stress relief for the colonel.

Alphonse was more difficult to ruffle, and Roy was infinitely glad of that fact.  It meant that he probably had backup whenever his young subordinate disagreed with anything he said.  The younger Alchemist was assuredly the more levelheaded of the two, and therefore was highly likely to side with Roy in an argument, especially if there was logic involved. There were several times over the past years with the Elrics when Roy had come across Alphonse alone. The youth was intelligent—frighteningly so, with an ability to intuitively grasp ideas faster than anyone the colonel had yet to come across—even his older brother.  Alphonse’s quiet nature also lent him spectacular perceptivity, particularly since he lacked three of his five physical senses.

As he approached his townhouse the sounds of school children at play filtered in between the residences. The large schoolyard spread itself behind his home, and had he the opportunity on weekdays he could watch the five- to eleven-year-olds play games of tag or kickball, or horse around on the playgrounds with built in slides and tubes in the sandbox.  The chance to watch the children in all their carefree glory was rare and therefore savored.  He slid between the fencing demarcating his home and the next, popping out on the back road that skirted the school grounds.  A chain-link fence separated the residential grounds from the educational. He stood, eyes taking in the energetic movements and ears taking in the enthusiastic squeals. A glint of silver caught his eye and he turned, brows rising in surprise as he found Alphonse watching the children as well.

“Alphonse,” he called in greeting, and the suit of armor’s head swiveled in his direction.

“Mustang-Taisa,” the young Alchemist replied with what sounded like false cheer, padding over to where Roy stood. In his hand rested a small black kitten, curled contentedly in his palm as his other hand stroked the fur along its spine.   “What are you doing here in Central?  Won’t Hawkeye-Chuui be upset with you for leaving early?”

Roy hid his suspicion about Alphonse’s mood and chuckled, knowing full well that the boy was imagining his first lieutenant cocking her handgun menacingly.  “No, I took the afternoon off to get a few errands done but I’m returning to East tomorrow.  Chuui is currently keeping watch in the office for me,” he said, turning his gaze back to the shrieking kids.  “I heard Hagaren was in the hospital again and stopped by this morning.  What brings you out this afternoon?”  When Alphonse did not immediately reply, Roy glanced at the boy. The young Alchemist had his helmet bowed and his solid shoulders seemed slumped, even as his fingers continued to lavish tender caresses on the small feline.  Brow furrowing with concern Roy asked slowly, “Alphonse?”

“Ah!” he exclaimed, popping up and waving his unoccupied hand disarmingly before him.  “Ah, sorry, I just got lost in thought.  I just felt a little antsy and decided to take a walk since Onii-san still hasn’t woken up. He’s not going anywhere for a while, not while Ross-Shoui and Brosh-Gunsou are standing guard over him.” He stared out at the school children, quiet once more as he automatically resumed petting the kitten. “They’re so young…” he murmured to himself, almost wistfully.

Despite the absolute lack of expression on his face, Alphonse was incredibly expressive with his voice.  While he masked it with believable aplomb, for Roy, who by his very nature was observant and analytical, it was clear to him that Alphonse was troubled.  This led to an easily resolved conundrum for the colonel: did he let it slide and allow Alphonse to suffer in silence, or did he confront him and allow him to vent his frustrations? Alphonse was such a considerate soul who felt for anything and everything that Roy felt it was only fair if he leant the boy a figurative—perhaps not so much literal—shoulder to cry on.

_What is going on?  Alphonse almost never leaves Hagaren on his own, especially when he is injured._   Roy refrained from voicing his thoughts.  “You’re not that much older than they are,” he said quietly, his eyes once again back on the screaming bundles brimming with the widely-perceived yet completely imaginary “cooties”.  “The oldest here are what—eleven years old?  You’re only fourteen, Alphonse.  Not ‘ancient,’ as Hagaren so kindly calls me.”  The musical giggle that was pure Alphonse Elric held only a sliver of his usual good humor. A breeze ruffled his hair and Roy instantly felt contrite for the simple ability to feel the wind on his skin when Alphonse had not been able to for nearly five years.  “What’s on your mind, Alphonse?” he asked softly, the draft carrying his words to the younger Alchemist.

“I’m worried about Onii-san,” Alphonse replied immediately, and Roy sensed immediately it was not the answer he was searching for. It was _a_ truth, for it was plain to see that the Elrics cared deeply for each other.  But it was not _the_ truth, the primary source of Alphonse’s disquiet.  Roy would bet his year’s salary that it had something to do with the two of them sneaking into the Fifth National Central Laboratory last night. He recalled that just this morning his friend Maes Hughes had mentioned that since the Fullmetal Alchemist had been admitted into the hospital yesterday evening with severe injuries, Alphonse had been distant and brooding.  The colonel took in the damage the armor had sustained. There were scuffs on the forearms of Alphonse’s armor, along with elongated, linear indentations. Had he been hacked at with a blade of some sort?

“Whether he believes it or not, there are a lot of people who care about him,” Roy replied.  Alphonse made disheartened a noise of agreement. “But those very people also care about you too,” he added, keeping his eyes glued on the little kids who were now being corralled by their teachers back inside the school building. Sensing Alphonse’s intense attention entirely on him, he continued.  “Hagaren’s drive to accomplish the feats he does stems from the fact that _you_ exist.  If you weren’t here, he would be a broken shell of a boy who wouldn’t have lasted long on this plane.”

The two of them stood in contemplative silence, Alphonse carefully digesting Roy’s words as he continued to stroke the purring kitten and Roy unobtrusively monitoring Alphonse’s mood. As the sun began to sink into the horizon, Roy stretched and turned away from the deserted school grounds. “Come,” he invited the younger man, “let’s go into the house.  I’ll inform the hospital staff of your whereabouts so that Hagaren doesn’t take down half the city searching for you when he wakes up, alright?” 

Alphonse glanced at the small feline in his hand. “Mustang-Taisa…” he trailed off, refusing to look at the man directly.  “Could I… could I give the kitten some milk?”

Roy gave the kitten and appraising stare, noting that despite its scruffy, homely appearance it seemed highly approving of Alphonse’s efforts.  He grinned slightly. “I don’t see why not,” he answered as he led the younger Alchemist into his small backyard.  “I’ll go inside and grab a saucer.  Please wait here.”  He unlocked the back door of his townhouse but paused.  “And also…” Roy turned, catching Alphonse’s gaze, “please call me Roy.  You aren’t military and therefore aren’t required to address me as ‘Mustang-Taisa,’” he added and disappeared inside.

The suit of armor stared at the door. “R-Roy?” he murmured, testing out the name.  A warm feeling bubbled up in his metaphorical heart.  Alphonse had never heard anyone besides Maes Hughes address the man so casually, and to be counted as the sole other—to his limited knowledge—touched him deeply, as though the colonel had somehow known the root of Alphonse’s unease and indirectly addressed it.  He continued to pet the kitten, and it nuzzled his fingers appreciatively with a soft _mew_ as he settled himself on the steps leading up to the back door.  Roy returned shortly with a small saucer of milk.  He carefully handed it to the suit of armor, who then lowered it to the ground.  Alphonse tipped his occupied hand, letting the small cat slide off his palm and onto the ground next to the dish.  It sniffed the edge of the porcelain experimentally before beginning to lap up the rich sustenance. Alphonse watched the kitten silently, and Roy discreetly watched Alphonse as he situated himself next to the youth.

The brighter stars were beginning to prick through the evening darkness, small pinpoints of light visible even with the light pollution of Central.  Roy watched the sky deepen from a warm rose to cool violet to somber midnight. The kitten, long since finished with the milk, had once again resumed its position in Alphonse’s hand, its continuous purr an accompaniment to the orchestra of evening sounds. A breeze ruffled the trees and brush, adding a whispering rustle to the dusk’s orchestra.  “It’s a beautiful night,” Roy commented offhandedly, testing Alphonse’s mood.  “I rarely get a chance to watch the sun set.”  He leaned backwards, resting his elbows on the step behind him as he continued to watch the few stars emerge.  “I’ve lived in a city all my life.  It must be so different to have grown up in the countryside.  I’d imagine the view of the night sky in Resembool was spectacular.”

By now the cat had cleaned the saucer of its contents and once again resumed its position in Alphonse’s hand. The younger Alchemist tilted his helmeted head to gaze upwards as well.  “I do miss it,” he said, voice heavy with wistfulness.  “You could see every star in the sky, and across the center flowed a belt of them, a hazy glow that arced across the heavens. During the summers, Winry, O—Onii-san, and I would lie in the grass and trace pictures out of them.” He had barely paused mentioning his brother, just the faintest bit of hesitation, and though he had recovered swiftly the colonel had caught it.

Roy kept his eyes upwards, trying to imagine the sky that Alphonse’s words painted.  He felt a yearning in his heart to see such a sight, along with a familiarly deep, aching longing to have such stories to share.  It was a common feeling for him, one that with time he had become unwillingly accustomed to pushing down.  Still, the bitter pill of growing up with a lack of siblings was difficult to swallow, especially when confronted with stories such as these. It was a small but significant factor as to why he was so protective and possessive of his team of officers. “Do you still see that sky when you look up during your travels?” Roy asked softly, genuinely curious.

“If we are far enough away from any significant lights,” Alphonse replied softly.  He took a breath as if to continue his train of thought but stopped, exhaling softly and lowering his gaze to the small grassy lot of Roy’s backyard, then to his hand.  “Oh! I should let him go now,” he said hurriedly, standing up and crossing over to the gate in the fence. He knelt, tipping the contented cat onto the ground.  It purred and nuzzled his gauntleted hand before disappearing into the night.

Roy watched the younger Alchemist lumber to the gate to release the feline, his hulking form glowing from the lights from his neighbors’ windows.  A frown creased his lips and a furrow settled in his brow.  There was definitely something that did not sit well with the younger Elric brother.  The way he walked, there was a metaphorical heaviness to his steps and an invisible bowing of his back that normally was not present.  So how to get the boy to talk?  Offerings of food and drink would be insensitive in his current state, as well as the warmth of the fireplace.  However, it _was_ rapidly cooling, and Roy felt his toes and fingers protesting by ignoring him and going numb. “Alphonse, would you like to go inside? I’m getting a little chilled now that the sun has gone down, but I would like to talk to you a little more, seeing as I haven’t really had a chance.  If you don’t mind?”  He stood and opened the door, holding it open for Alphonse to enter past him.

“No, not at all,” Alphonse replied, stepping past the elder Alchemist with a murmured, “Thank you.”  The colonel led the younger Alchemist through the kitchen, directing Alphonse to the living room and offering him a seat on a dingy, threadbare couch as he lit a fire in the hearth.  Alphonse sat and looked about curiously as Roy doffed his coat and boots in a coat closet by the foyer before retreating to the kitchen to place a call to the hospital.  The couch was accompanied by a small, worn coffee table, and these were one of the few pieces of furniture in the entirety of the downstairs.  There was a breakfast table, but the walls were barren with no décor in the least.  It was frankly, depressing to see a home with such meager offerings of warmth and welcome after a long day.

“It’s not much, is it?”  Alphonse jumped, having not heard Roy’s approach without his usual boots. 

“No—I mean, yes!  I mean—” he exclaimed, flapping his hands in agitation. “It’s not that, it’s just…” Alphonse paused, struggling to come up with a word that was not too demeaning to the state of Roy’s home.

“It’s all right, Alphonse.” The colonel lowered himself onto the sofa with a groan and leaned his elbows on his knees, staring out into the empty room with a rueful smile.  “I’m not home often enough to really appreciate my home as a home. It’s just a place I happen to eat, sleep, and store my belongings in.”  He chuckled self-depreciatingly, dipping his head down so that his chin nearly touched his chest as his shoulders shook.  “Not so glamorous being an officer, is it?”

The suit of armor turned his head down to the distressed walnut floor.  “I thought that you would have a home that was more… luxurious, considering your reputation…” He trailed off, wondering instantly after he spoke whether or not he had crossed a line.

“Debonair womanizer?”  Roy chuckled that sardonic laugh once again, his shoulders shaking. “I guess I deserve that,” he said ruefully.  “My reputation precedes me apparently.”

Alphonse turned to study the man. “So you don’t bring home a woman every other night?”

The older Alchemist laughed, throwing his head back, but it was not a free and easy laugh.  There was a tinge of bitterness and a hint of loneliness in that laugh that made Alphonse shudder ever so slightly.  When he had managed to control himself, he gave Alphonse sheepish grin. “If I did that, I would never get the sleep I need to get through the day, and then Chuui would get on my case for being lazy and threaten to put a bullet through my—bits—for being too promiscuous and wasteful with my energy and focus.”  They shared an amused laugh this time, both knowing full well that First Lieutenant Hawkeye was not one to dawdle—or appreciate others’ dawdling. “No, while I do go out on a date every now and then, I don’t follow exactly what my reputation claims I do.”

“It’s a cover to force your opponents to underestimate you, isn’t it?” Alphonse asked shrewdly.

Roy’s eyes darted piercingly to Alphonse, blatantly assessing the youth.  “You’re a sharp one,” he finally stated after several moments’ pause. “I’d almost wager you’re sharper than Hagaren.”

Alphonse hesitated in his answer. “I’m not so sure. I… I don’t think I could have known how to create a blood seal, even under normal conditions.”

Again, there was that pause, that niggling feeling that not all was right in Alphonse’s world.  Roy’s eyes studied the younger Elric brother, not bothering with facial expressions but with body language.  Alphonse’s posture hinted at discomfort, anxiety, and fear that was directly contradictory with the forced cheeriness of his voice. Seeing how the younger brother was clearly hurting, Roy decided to be blunt in order to get to the root of the problem.  “Alphonse,” he said, gazing directly into the warm red glow of Alphonse’s eyes. “I am going to be frank. Please answer me truthfully. Has Hagaren done or said something to upset you?”  Alphonse seemed to stiffen before cocking his head to the side in apparent confusion, even though Roy knew he would rather turn his head away and not face him.  _It seems as if he’s caught on._

“What makes you say that?” he asked, his voice not quite as steady as it usually was.

_Trying to evade the question, Alphonse?  I’m too old and experienced to let that slide for a second,_ he thought.  “You left the hospital while he is still there in a mild coma from the trauma he’s suffered.  Normally you would never leave his side.  I’m going to take an educated guess that whatever is bothering you has to do with the events that occurred when the two of you sneaked out to the Fifth National Central Laboratory.  What happened there, Alphonse?”

The boy was silent for a long while, the crackling of the wood-burning fire filling in the quietude as he studied the flames. Finally Alphonse replied. “Onii-san, he… he didn’t actually do anything,” he said slowly.

Roy’s confusion was evident by the furrowed brows and frown as he digested this tidbit of information. “But he had to have,” he reasoned. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be this upset.”

“It wasn’t him, I promise.  It was… something that… someone else said,” Alphonse replied, instantly looking up to meet Roy’s eyes, and the initial swiftness of his reply confirmed to the colonel that the youth spoke the truth.  Alphonse looked away again, as though he was guilty of revealing too much.

A cool rage swept over him, demanding that he hunt down the idiot who had upset this gentle soul.  The surge of protectiveness that filled his chest did not take him quite by surprise, for had he not felt the same for the older Elric brother when they had sat down on this very couch just over three years ago? Reigning in his emotions, Roy prodded, “Then who was it?”  When Alphonse did not reply immediately, he asked gently, “Al?”  The concern in his voice was clear to the both of them, and Roy felt the beginnings of a dizzying sense of déjà vu.

“He called himself ‘Barry the Chopper’,” Alphonse whispered, eyes once again firmly glued to his feet.

Roy narrowed his eyes in thought. _‘Barry the Chopper’?  I remember that name from somewhere…  Ah, yes. It was a case Hughes was assigned to. The man was a butcher who began killing women and was arrested before the Elrics arrived in Central for the State Alchemy Examination.  But how…? “_ He was executed several months ago. I remember reading that in the morning paper, so how did you meet him when he’s already dead?”

Alphonse’s posture radiated with discomfort. “His soul was attached to armor, like mine, so he is like me: dead, yet alive.”  His voice was so soft, quiet, and so achingly distressed that Roy knew that if Alphonse possessed the capability, he would assuredly be shedding tears.

He scooted closer to the towering suit of armor and gently tugged at the boy’s left arm until he had Alphonse’s hand clasped in both of his own.  “Are you bothered by it?” he asked softly, his dark eyes steady as they observed his unofficial charge.

Alphonse’s gaze had wandered from his feet to his hand that was held a tender prisoner in Roy’s own.  He shook his head slightly.  “Not specifically by that,” he murmured.

Roy leaned forwards, catching Alphonse’s downward gaze. “Then what did he say that upset you?”

The suit of armor looked away, seemingly ashamed. “He said… he said…” Alphonse struggled to repeat Barry’s words. “Mustang-Tai—Roy, am I real?” he burst out suddenly, catching Roy’s eyes as he leaned forwards, right hand pressed against his chest plate.  There was desperation and terror laced in his voice, and the sound of it sent Roy’s pulse leaping as his own instinct to protect roared and surged forth, even as his mind suffered whiplash from the sheer peculiarity of the question. Alphonse panted in anxiety, and his armor trembled ever so slightly as he both yearned and dreaded Roy’s answer.

“Are you—?  What do you—?” he sputtered, his mind valiantly attempting to rally. “Of course you are real! Why would you not be?” he exclaimed, lightly shaking Alphonse’s captured hand as he leaned forwards, earnestness and befuddlement written clear across his face.  Roy watched as Alphonse’s right hand slid from his chest piece into his lap, his helmeted head dropping.  When no reply was forthcoming Roy once again gently prodded, “Al?”

“Barry said that since Onii-san was the one to draw my blood seal, he could have created me like an animated doll.” The depression was clear in his voice. He pulled his hand out of Roy’s, holding both out before him, palms up and fingers curled slightly, as though Alphonse were seeing them for the very first time.  “Did I ever exist before this as a person? Am I just a construct made by Onii-san to keep him company?”

Roy huffed incredulously.  “That’s nonsense, Al.  Hagaren wouldn’t go through the trouble of losing an arm and a leg just to create something for fun, regardless of how lifelike it is.” He scooted so he was next to the suit of armor and rested a hand between the spikes on the shoulder. “I said this earlier and I will say it again: everything Hagaren has done since you lost your body has been done with the sole purpose of regaining that body in mind.  That kind of dedication is enviable.  There aren’t many people willing to go to the lengths Hagaren has done for you.  Don’t you see, Alphonse?” he asked, giving the spiked shoulder a gentle shake. “Without you, the Edward Elric we know today would not exist.”

“But there is no proof that I once lived,” he said, his voice soft and unsure as his hands dropped into his lap with metallic _clunks_.

“Then talk to him, Alphonse. Explain your concerns,” Roy coaxed. “I’m sure you are worrying over nothing.”

Alphonse shook his head.  “I… I can’t…”

Roy’s hand slid off the spiked shoulder and he folded his arms across his chest.  A deep frown marred the expression on his face.  “Why ever not?” he quietly demanded, the beginnings of anger kindling in his chest at Alphonse’s continued stubbornness.

The younger Alchemist was slow to answer. “I’m afraid of his question.”

His frown deepened as confusion added itself to the mix of his emotions.  “His question?” he asked, baffled.  “What question?”

“He—he didn’t say… but he admitted that whatever it was, he was afraid to ask me,” Alphonse replied softly.

Roy exhaled silently, leaning back into the couch. “It’s obviously deeply important to him if he’s afraid of your answer.”

“It doesn’t mean much if he refuses to ask me because he can’t face me,” the armor retorted somewhat sulkily, turning his face away from Roy and towards the fire.

The elder Alchemist shot Alphonse a look that held some heat.  “There isn’t something you’re afraid to ask him then?” he asked, skepticism clear in his tone. When the younger Alchemist failed to reply, Roy exhaled again, a little more gustily.  “So there is.  If you have the same reservations as Hagaren, I find myself somewhat surprised that you aren’t as sympathetic to his plight.”  The hint of rebuke in his voice was evident to Alphonse, for he seemed to curl in on himself slightly in response.

“He doesn’t question his existence every second of every day,” he muttered petulantly, twisting his helmeted head just enough to watch the colonel out of the corner of his eye.

Roy’s arms slid to the couch and he stared at Alphonse in incredulity as his irritation ballooned rapidly. “ _That’s_ what’s been bothering you ever since you talked to Barry?” he asked, his voice stridently chastising.  “And so now you’re going to hurt him by keeping your distance from him instead of asking him directly while he’s recovering?”

Alphonse reeled, head snapping to face Roy. “Ho—how did you know about that?”

The colonel smirked.  “I have my ways,” he said slyly.  The grin dropped abruptly.  “But in all seriousness, when he wakes, he’s going to want you to be the first person he sees.”

The suit of armor turned away again, head bowed. “I’m just a distraction for him. Memories can be fabricated. It’s just data, after all. He just doesn’t want to be alone.” His voice was morose and his body language mirrored that.

Roy took a deep breath to control his annoyance. “Al, nobody truly ever wants to be alone. But even so, that is not an excuse for Hagaren to bind a soul to a suit of armor simply for fun, taboo aside,” he stated firmly.

“But there’s no substance to me. I’m simply an empty shell of fantasized memories…” he argued, voice trailing off into a whisper.

_That damned Elric stubbornness…_ Roy mentally snarled as his patience finally snapped. “Alphonse Elric,” he growled, instantly gaining the young boy’s attention as he leaned into the youth’s personal space.  “You listen to me. You are the single person Hagaren holds in the highest esteem.  I understand your concerns with what Barry said, but take those poisonous words and put them out of your mind this instant!  His words were aimed precisely to hurt you and make you question your existence. But I and everyone on my team have seen how dedicated Edward is to his goal of retrieving your body. If you cannot see his devotion to this cause as proof of your existence, you are a fool.”

Alphonse stared at Roy silently, his body language expressing nothing but surprise.  Roy could sense the wheels spinning rapidly in the youth’s mind as he began to formulate arguments against his words, even as he recognized Alphonse’s resistance crumbling in the face of his words.  He continued, heading off any attempts of Alphonse’s to rebuff his claims.  Roy was determined to beat this fact into the boy’s skull.

“Don’t force me to insult your intelligence, Al,” he said with a sigh, modulating his tone into something not as harsh. “You know your brother better than anyone else.  Talk to him. Explain your doubts, and in turn give him the opportunity to ask that question he is so afraid of. He tries so hard to constantly be the strong big brother, but even he needs a break every now and then. Cut him a little slack, let him step away from that role for a moment, and face each other as equals. I think you will be pleasantly surprised to find that you had nothing to fear.”

Roy’s stomach decided at that moment to announce itself, and the pair of Alchemists glanced downwards.  The colonel flushed in embarrassment and the both of them chuckled awkwardly.  “I guess I should find something to eat,” he said, rising off the couch. Alphonse stood with him. “I don’t have anything here, so I’m going to have to go out.”  He snuffed the flames, gathered his coat, and slid on his boots, locking the door behind him once Alphonse had also exited.  As they stepped out into the brisk evening, Roy murmured, “Think about what I said, Alphonse.  For all Edward’s bark and bite, everything he has done has been with you in mind. You know that.”

“Roy,” Alphonse said thoughtfully, pausing and forcing the colonel to stop as well.  He gazed into the elder Alchemist’s open countenance.  “I know.  Thank you.”

The colonel smiled gently.  “You should get back to the hospital.  He’ll want to see you when he wakes.”

The younger Alchemist nodded. “See you later,” he said, and headed off in the direction of Central Command.

Roy watched Alphonse’s large form disappear into the night and turned, intent on finding a meal before his stomach decided to devour itself.  It grumbled, and he frowned as he looked down at his belly.  “All right, all right!” he snapped as he hurried towards the market district.

Midafternoon several days later brought Maes Hughes to his door in East City.  The Lieutenant Colonel blew into his office with a wide grin on his face and a jovial, “Yo, Roy!” as his subordinates peeked up momentarily. 

Roy glanced up from his stack of paperwork. “Hughes-Chuusa,” he greeted with decorum, resuming his perusal of the document before him. “How are they?” There was no need to clarify who “they” were. Roy had left Central before Edward had woken up, and so his youngest subordinate had no idea his commanding officer had paid him a visit.

“Already out on their next mission. They had a falling out while Edward was still in the hospital,” Maes reported, his earlier enthusiasm tempered with somber tenderness.

The colonel paused in his reading and looked up at his friend.  “Oh?” _Alphonse and Hagaren had a fight?  Emotionally or physically?_

The Lieutenant Colonel shrugged with a grin. “They fought verbally, Winry clarified a few things for Alphonse, they fought physically, Edward won, Alphonse apologized, they talked, and now they are back on good terms with each other.”

Roy snorted.  _Figures that Hagaren would settle disputes by fighting, even when hospitalized._   “No additional injuries?” he queried.

Maes shook his head.  “They aired their grievances and got it settled.”

“Good.”  Roy leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers together while propping his elbows on the armrests, and shared a rare indulgent, knowing look with Maes that all parents understood.

_Never forget that you are real, Alphonse, for with Hagaren’s stubborn determination, I bet it won’t be long before I get the chance to meet you in the flesh._

\---

Taisa – Colonel

Chuui – First Lieutenant

Onii-san – Older brother

Shoui – Second Lieutenant

Gunsou – Sergeant

Hagaren – Roy’s abbreviation of Edward’s full title, “Hagaren no Renkinjutsushi” – Fullmetal Alchemist

Chuusa – Lieutenant Colonel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: This one was so much harder to write! Not sure this was as poignant as Part I, but I think I adequately expressed Alphonse’s insecurity and Roy’s annoyance. Again, not entirely happy with the ending, but I am glad to have it done. I think Roy needed a slightly different approach to talking to Alphonse, and I hope that it was again not too out of character. I hope you enjoyed it.  
> \---  
> Completed: 10.01.2014


End file.
